Admission of Guilt
by Acacia Jules
Summary: Chase's been pissed at House’s behavior latel, but that punch was the last straw. He’s not going to take it anymore. It’s time for House to wake up. ONESHOT [Est. Relationship, Slash, HouseChase]


**Title:** Admission of Guilt  
**Name:** Jules  
**Rating:** PG-15  
**Disclaimer: **Obviously, I don't own any of the characters of House M.D., no matter how much I WISH I did. They belong to FOX & their production company (whatever that is). I do not own the song "How Does it Feel", it was written by the awesome band, Sugarcult.  
**Classification:** Established relationship, slash, romance, humor  
**Warnings:** Language, homosexual references. If you're offended by that, GO AWAY.  
**Summary:** Chase is pissed at House's behavior lately. But that punch was the last straw. He's not going to take it anymore. It's time for House to wake up. ONESHOT Est. Relationship, Slash, HouseChase  
**Status: **Finished

_Author's notes: This is my first House MD fic, so obviously it's my first House/Chase slash as well. So please be kind. The characters might be a little OC, but I've never written them before, plus I really don't think they'd behave this way in canon. _

_The story is post 'Finding Judas', in a world where House and Chase are in an on and off sexual relationship. Chase basically let's House walk all over him, and House knows Chase will take pretty much anything House doles out. But Chase is fed up, and he's not going to take it anymore. _

_This is probably SLIGHTLY non-canon, due to the fact that in the show, they've basically said Chase was completely cut off when his father died. I prefer to believe Chase has the resources, but doesn't want to use any of the dirty money that belonged to his father, and he feels was earned through his father's neglect, plus his father's audacity to die of cancer, without even bothering to warn his own son of the eventuality. _

_This fic hit me on my drive home from my conference with my English professor as I was listening to my CD. I was thinking about last night's episode, and of course the punch, and singing along, when the idea hit me. I just had to write it. I hope you all like it! _

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Admission of Guilt

_By Jules_

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Robert Chase had put up with a lot of shit in his life. Especially since entering into a fellowship with the world-renowned diagnostician, Gregory House. He put up with even more, after he entered into a sexual relationship with the self-involved, caustic, cynical older man. Mostly because the sex was mind blowing, but there was also just something about House that wouldn't let Chase leave him.

So as a result, Chase had put up with all sorts of things throughout the course of their 'relationship', if one could even call it that. It was more like two men coming together frequently to fuck each other into oblivion. Chase could never be sure when House would be open to advances, or when he'd be more likely to shove the younger man away. House would pick at the barely healed wounds of Chase's soul, trying to figure out what made him tick, possibly to break him completely, then finally put his intensivist back together in an image House wished to see.

But this time, the man had gone too far. Chase had been far more patient than anyone else would have been. He put up with the derogatory remarks, the booty calls in the middle of the night, where once the act was over, House would kick him out of his bed and tell him to get out. He'd put up with it all, because he knew how truly upset Greg was about the whole Tritter situation. Chase had even offered to break his boycott of his inheritance, and use the team of lawyers his father had kept on retainer, to help get House out of trouble. But House, being the stubborn ass he was, had refused any help, and begun pushing everyone who cared about him at all out of his life. Using any means at his disposal to achieve his goal, even antagonizing his only friend, to the point that Wilson had betrayed House to Tritter.

Robert Chase, however, was not putting up with it anymore. Despite the shock on House's own face after having punched Chase, the Australian was done staying silent. He was done just letting House do what ever he wanted. He was done with House holding all the cards when it came to their relationship. Robert Chase, was fighting back.

He hadn't spoken a word to House since the incident. And House hadn't spoken to him either. He had retreated into himself, merely barking orders at his ducklings when he wanted them to do something, but not actually _talking_ to anyone. He was closed off, cranky, and spoiling for a fight.

Cuddy, their hospital administrator, in an effort to boost donations to the hospital, had organized a benefit concert for their donors, the wealthy influential hopeful future donors, and whoever else could afford a ticket. The night's entertainment was to be a combination of professionals and performances by the hospital's doctors, who were willing to take their time and create such an act. In a fit of what some would call madness, and other's confidence, Chase had signed up as well. He'd actually had a garage band in his teenage years back in Australia; he'd been told he'd been pretty good. But his 'good deed', wasn't just for charity. No, Chase was going up on stage to send a message. Whether the intended recipient would understand it or not, or even see it, was questionable.

Thankfully, Cuddy made attendance by the department heads mandatory, supposedly as it was a good display for the benefactors. Anyone who didn't show (House) would be given three months more of clinic duty, on top of the hours already required. Which of course assured House's presence that night, dressed handsomely in a tuxedo (as required).

Chase was an absolute nervous wreck backstage. He suddenly wasn't so sure what he was about to do was a good idea, but there was no time to pull out now. Then his name was being called. Swallowing his nerves, Chase walked out onto stage with his electric guitar. He'd arranged for one of the band's performing that night, to back him up ahead of time. It was amazing what money could arrange.

Those who knew Chase raised an eyebrow at his appearance as he walked onto stage. He wore a pair of black leather pants that looked as if they had been painted onto him, and a worn tight black concert-T that showed off his muscles, set off his fair looks and blond hair; blond hair, which for once, contained styling product, giving him a messy, but carefree look. To put it simply, the man was sex on legs.

Chase plugged his guitar into the amp and stepped up to the microphone, "Thank you all for coming here tonight to support the hospital. I'd just like to take a few minutes of your night, to perform a song for someone, I think you know whom you are. Fan's of the band Sugarcult might recognize the song, and I hope you enjoy this."

Then he took a step back as the music started. The thumping, rhythmic opening cords of the intense rock song poured through the audience, waking up anyone who'd fallen asleep. Chase's head was bent over his guitar, strumming out the angry cords. Moments later he stepped up to the microphone, looked up and started singing.

**_  
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_Well I'm back in the class  
Falling out of your past  
All the letters that I wrote  
And you thought as a joke  
And the phone never rings _

_  
When you're cold and it stings  
All the holidays suck  
By myself 'cause I am fucked  
And I'm dying, dying, dying _

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

The doctors and other people in the audience who knew the Australian doctor were shocked by what they were seeing. He'd always been so quiet. Who knew he'd had such a fantastic body underneath all those ill-fitting clothes and damnable lab coats. Just look at what those evil white things had caused them to miss out on ogling.

Plus, the resident could really sing, and play. Where on earth had Dr. Chase learned to play the guitar?

**_  
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_So how does it feel?  
How does it feel?  
'Cause it's tearing me apart  
How does it feel?  
How does it feel?  
'Cause it's tearing me apart _

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

Their heads were also abuzz with confusion, what relationship could he possibly be talking about? The gossip mills of the hospital never missed anything, so they thought, because the news of Dr's Chase and Cameron's night together had been all over the hospital within two days.

Gregory House meanwhile was calmly sitting in his seat, letting no sign of his inner turmoil show. Where had his wombat gotten those clothes, and why the hell hadn't he ever seen them before?! He knew the song was directed at him, but he was a little distracted by the leather pants. He couldn't help but wonder how those would feel pressed against him, writhing beneath him as he drove his wombat insane in fits of greater and greater pleasure…. House shifted in his seat, getting even harder at the idea.

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_Well I'm back for some more  
Round two was a bore  
And you're driftin' away  
'Cause you want it that way  
And I'm picking up pieces  
Of hearts that completely  
Are broken in two  
So it must have been you  
While you're lying in bed  
With somebody new_

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

Ok, maybe House had screwed up by pushing everyone away and refusing Chase's offer of help. And yes, actually punching Chase had been the hugest fuck up of them all. But it had been a wake up. He'd actually hit his wombat, violently. What had shocked him even more was the look on Chase's face after he'd done so. No change in expression. It was as if he'd been waiting for House to do so, expected it of him. He wasn't hurt, angry, shocked. Chase had just accepted it. That had frightened House more than anything. He'd needed to think.

**_  
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_So how does it feel?  
How does it feel?  
'Cause it's tearing me apart  
How does it feel?  
How does it feel?  
'Cause it's tearing me apart _

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

Chase was finding the whole experience rather cathartic and very empowering. There was something about having control over the experiences of so many people that was just . . . exhilarating. Plus, having the ability to shock so many of his colleagues, was really amusing. The looks on their faces when he'd stepped out onto stage had been hilarious. He was really starting to understand House's love of shocking people.

His favorite verse was coming up next. As he began to belt it out, he found House's heated gaze in the audience and locked eyes with his temperamental lover. Yes, this was his anthem now, no more being under anyone's thumb.

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C_annot convince me anymore  
Cannot control me like before _

_(Interlude) _

_  
Cannot convince me anymore  
You cannot control me like before _

How does it feel?  
_How does it feel?  
__How does **it** feeeel?  
__How does it feel?  
__How does it feel?  
__How does **it** feeeeel?_

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

House acknowledged what Chase was telling him. He wasn't going to be at House's beck and call any longer. No more calls for a quick roll in the hay. Chase wasn't going to be his puppy for another minute.

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_And it's 1:45  
And I'm feeling alive  
I've got it all  
And it's your last call  
There's somebody new  
And she's better than you  
You've been replaced  
By a prettier face  
So look who's crying now _

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

Cameron and Foreman were baffled as to what was going on. Who was Chase singing to? Had Chase been in a relationship and not told them?…Well, ok, that was believable. Chase was the most closed-mouth son of a bitch they'd ever met. But for him to be singing in front of everyone, singing _well_, it was an incredible shock. Who would have thought their youngest duckling would have this in him?

House meanwhile was thinking that last verse had better have just been because it was part of the lyrics. Chase was _his_ wombat. No one else got to touch him. That pale, toned body was his, and his alone to run his hands on. Those pouty lips were his to kiss, no one else's. That beautiful ass was his to smack and grope, and he'd _destroy_ anyone else who tried.

**_  
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_We don't wanna be the enemies of what we used to be  
We don't wanna be the enemy of what we used to be_

_So how does it feel?  
How does it feel?  
'Cause it's tearing me apart  
How does it feel?  
How does it feel?  
'Cause it's tearing me apart _

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

This was the last overture Chase would make to his lover. House had better be getting the message, because Chase just couldn't take the upheaval of their relationship any longer. His entire childhood had been a rollercoaster, and he'd been absolutely miserable. He couldn't do that anymore. He just wasn't strong enough. He loved Greg, despite his faults, and possibly even more because of them, but if things didn't change, it had to be over.

**_  
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_So how does it feel?  
How does it feeeel now? _

_So how does it feeeel?  
__How does it feel now?_

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

As the last cord faded into the distance, the theater was silent. Chase stood before the microphone, staring into the audience at his sole concern, panting with exertion. He flipped a sweaty bang out of his face, and waited.

The entire audience could perceive the tension, and instinctively kept silent, frozen in anticipation.

Finally it happened, the last person they would have ever expected rose out of his seat, giving half the audience heart attacks.

"Alright!" House shouted from his seat, leaning on his cane, "I get it. I'm sorry. There, I said it. I am sorry."

Chase let go of a breath he hadn't even been aware he'd been holding, "For…" he prompted.

House glared, that bastard was actually going to make him say it, "I'm sorry. I'm an ass. A complete jerk. You win." (These words just about caused Wilson, who was sitting a few rows behind, to faint), "We'll move in together, but you're coming to my place because I don't do stairs."

'Holy shit!' the audience thought, 'they ARE lovers . . . huh, I would have thought it was House and Wilson….."

"And…" Chase prompted from the stage, with a devilish smirk on his face. House was _his_ now, and he wasn't leaving until he had everything he wanted.

House let out a sound, which to the other two ducklings sitting besides him, sounded suspiciously like a growl, "And I'll use you're damn team of lawyers for my defense, and counter sue the cop."

"Good boy." Chase cooed into the microphone, forcing several in the audience to smother their snickers.

"There, are you happy? Can I stop screaming about our…relationship…in front of all these people?" House demanded, extremely pissed.

Chase grinned at his lover beatifically, "Just one more thing."

"WHAT you manipulative wombat?!" House screamed with frustration, fighting the urge to beat someone with his cane.

Chase set down his guitar, jumped off the stage and strode over to House in his tight leather pants, "Just this."

And with that, Chase kissed House forcefully, quickly drawing the man into a highly erotic kiss.

The entire concert hall was silent in absolute shock. Was this really happening? Were two of their best doctors really tonguing each other in the aisle?

Finally an anonymous voice in the back called out what everyone was really thinking, "You mean he is still that big of a jerk off _while_ he's getting laid by someone half his age?!"

That person was grabbed by a concerned friend and dragged out of the hall before he could be could be introduced to House's cane rectally…once he managed to stop groping his wombat that was.

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_Sugarcult is an absolutely awesome band. You've probably heard at least three of their songs on the radio within the last year or so. Look them up on myspace and listen to their music. They rule. Obviously, the song belongs to them._

_Please, I want replies, I know it sounds pathetic, but I live for feedback, good or bad! If you have any questions, or anything you'd like to point out, feel free to e-mail me! I always answer questions. And I'm more inclined to respond back to positive reviews, if there's a specific scene you enjoyed, or a line you loved. I like to know what people enjoyed about my writings. A writer is always improving himself or herself. _

_SO REPLY! _

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